


Write My Name

by colieb2183



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Filmmaker Kinkade, Fluff, GlitterBeefs AU, I really love kissing, M/M, Porn with Feelings, They deserve all the kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Kinkade, Yeehaw AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 04:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colieb2183/pseuds/colieb2183
Summary: Kinkade loves to make films as gifts. He makes them for birthday presents, wedding presents, you name it. This time, the gift is for Shiro.





	Write My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buffshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffshiro/gifts).



> I love fluff, but it's surprisingly hard to write. This is inspired entirely about a time me and buffshiro spent a good hour yelling at each other in discord about HC's. It demanded to be written.
> 
> Important note: the title is based on the inspiration song for this fic. You can find it here [Write My Name (Alt Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJtMvzN3Dtk). I highly HIGHLY recommend listening to the song while reading the fic. :)
> 
> Second important note: the sequences will switch back and forth between current time and the description of the video. They all are marked with "----" to indicate the perspective switch.

“I have a video I wanna show you.”

Shiro’s gaze breaks from the most recent episode of the Great British Bake off to look across the couch. Even in the dead of winter, Ryan stubbornly stuck to his preferred wardrobe of sleeveless zip up hoodies. Shiro sighed. It was like the man was allergic to sleeves. At least he had the sense to wear sweats instead of his preferred basketball shorts for a change. Not that Shiro minded his own personal daily VIP pass to the guns show, but the heating bill last month had been way too high so they had taken steps to be more conservative with the thermostat. 

Ryan wanting to show Shiro a video he made was nothing new. He still expresses himself often through video and photography. Many of their friends have received a video gift for birthdays or weddings, all lovingly edited together in the rare free time he had between residency surgical rotations. The walls of their modest apartment are covered with the evidence of his talent: heart-warming shots of them with their friends and family generously interspersed with artistically composed landscapes and cityscapes so stunning that visitors often begged for prints. The man has an eye.

“Ok!” Shiro responds enthusiastically, snuggling up with his blanket while Ryan hooks his laptop to the TV before returning to sit next to Shiro. There seems to be a bit of nervous energy around Ryan’s eyes, which is odd. Usually Ryan is pretty confident about the things he created. The last time he was nervous was after Matt found out who took all of the gorgeous photographs decorating the green room and demanded Ryan submit his portfolio to become their official photographer.

The title card is simple, but beautiful. A dark navy blue background with small bits of gold glitter floating behind the scrolling golden script.

There are days we live

as if death were nowhere

in the background; from joy

to joy to joy, from wing to wing,

from blossom to blossom to

impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom

Li-Young Lee

 

Shiro turns to smile at Ryan, already in love with the design and excited for more. Was he submitting a short film somewhere? Shiro doesn’t recognize the poetry, but was fairly certain they have an old dog-eared copy of a book sitting on a shelf with that author’s name. Shaking his head, Shiro focuses on the screen as the words slowly fade.

\---- 

The video opens with a slow panning shot of Shiro asleep in their bed. Hand resting palm up on the pillow next to his cheek, fingers curling softly, chest rising and falling rhythmically as soft piano chords and strings gently underscore the image. His lips are parted slightly, lax in sleep. Light pours in the bedroom window behind him, transforming his hair into a radiant silver halo.

\---- 

Shiro is floored, gaping at the screen. What… what in the world? That was him. Is this …. Is this how Ryan sees him?

\---- 

Shiro blows on the hot surface of his Starbucks drink. Lips pursed. Steam rising in soft clouds. A soft low laugh weaves through the soothing piano tones. Ryan’s laugh.

They’re kissing beneath tented sheets, shirtless and warm. Golden light diffusing through the white cotton. Curved sleepy smile pressed against sleepy smile. Lips moving slowly, tenderly. Noses bumping. Shiro’s thumb smooths over Ryan’s cheekbone. No rush. No end game. Pure happiness, untouched by the stress of school, money, nightmares… life.

Vocal harmony joins the swelling melody of piano and strings.

Shiro carefully applies eyeliner at his vanity backstage. The row of lightbulbs shines bright, catching on the glitter highlighting the curves and ridges of his body, shimmering and shifting with every movement. He’s surrounded by dozens of Polaroids on the edges of the mirror, overflowing onto the surrounding cinderblock walls. Photos of their friends and coworkers at Atlas, of the city streets lit at night, of afterparties soaked with alcohol and smiles. He turns to look at the camera and his face splits into a dazzling smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

_ “You say I’m the only one you’ll never be without.” _

Shiro sleeping with his head in Ryan’s lap on their sofa. The light of their TV flickers across his face as Ryan’s hand gently cards through his hair, twirling small strands into soft curls. He pauses to trace his thumb along the shell of Shiro’s ear. Shiro shifts in his sleep.

\---- 

Shiro swallows past the rising lump in his throat and turns to Ryan with questions and tears brimming in his eyes. How... when had he had the time to do this? All those times with camera in hand, set on tables and countertops, was this his plan the whole time? Ryan weaves their fingers together, presses a kiss to his knuckles, and gestures with his chin back to the screen.

\---- 

_ “I’ve found you’re the only one worth ever singing ‘bout.” _

A shot of their hands in the darkness, fingers intertwined. Passing cars and the brightly lit signs of nearby businesses throw shifting patterns of shadow and color over their skin.

_ “Will you write my name in your heart.” _

The remains of turkey sandwiches lay forgotten on the floor as they sit crosslegged on the living room carpet, knee to knee, feeding each other fork-fulls of pumpkin pie. They giggle and make a game out of who can eat it more sensually; the fact that they couldn’t afford to fly home for Thanksgiving forgotten in the simple joy of being silly together. Shiro sticks his tongue out for Ryan to spray Reddi-wip into his mouth and Ryan attacks, spraying the fluffy white foam all over Shiro’s face. The look of shock and utter betrayal. Ryan nearly crying from laughter.

_ “Write my name in your heart.” _

The violins swell, accompanied by a soft guitar harmony. Two dark outlines lie entwined on a blanket as the stars wheel overhead, the Perseid meteor shower shooting random moments of brilliance across the inky darkness. Their arms reach up, fingers pointing to the trailing moments of starlight. Fireflies mimic the spectacular heavenly show, glowing flickers of light in the warm summer air.

_ “Though strangers among us crumble all we’ve figured out.” _

Shiro is leaning over the potted plants along their windowsill, running careful fingers over the leaves, pinching off dead buds, testing the soil. Lilies, violets, colorful succulents, and a small juniper bonsai tree. His expression is focused, intent, clearly unaware he’s being filmed.  Brilliant sunlight transforms his eyes into living quicksilver.

_ “I’ve found you’re the only one I hold on to in the doubt.” _

The fire alarm in their apartment is going off as Shiro frantically waves a paper plate in front of it. The camera shakes and he can hear Ryan breathing in sharply through his nose, attempting to hold in laughter. The alarm finally stops beeping and Shiro turns, his bottom lip jutting out in a giant pout, puppy dog eyes on full display.

_ “And you write my name in your heart.” _

\---- 

Ryan having a camera in his hand or setting it on a nearby table had become such a normal part of their lives, Shiro had stopped paying attention. There are so many captured moments he barely remembers. So many moments he doesn’t remember at all. He squeezes Ryan’s hand, overwhelmed. Ryan squeezes back.

\----

_ “Write my name in your heart.” _

The music swells into a crescendo. Drums, violins, cymbals, piano all culminate to a beautiful climax that fades into the wavering solo voice as it continues to carry the melody.

The camera shakes, unfocused, and their voices overcut one another, full of laughter and teasing.

“Stooooop. Why are you always – give me that!” His voice is fond, exasperated.

“No! I love filming you!” Ryan lifts the camera up high and tries, unsuccessfully, to focus on Shiro’s face. Their giggles fill the gaps between the music.

The strings build back in, lifting and blending with the vocal melody

Shiro is sitting at their hand-me-down kitchen table, a small white cake in front of him. The candles flicker a warm glow over his brilliant smile as Ryan’s honeyed baritone sings, “Happy Birthday to yoouuu, Happy Birthday to youuu. Happy --” Shiro’s eyes sparkle as he looks past the camera to the man holding it.

_ “And I’ll see you again.” _

\---- 

The transition clips between longer shots of Shiro are all seemingly mundane snapshots from their life together. Dust motes drifting against their curtains, golden and glittery and beautiful in the morning sunshine. A slowly flickering flame illuminating a photo from last Christmas— filled with sweet kisses, happy smiles, shimmering tinsel, and nose scrunches. Dark puddles broken up by rain drops; scattering neon light into bright concentric and overlapping circles. Steam curling up in lazy tendrils from twin mugs of decadent dark coffee. Their life. The small simple moments. Ryan has collected them, arranged them carefully, and given them to Shiro as a gift.

A single tear falls down his cheek and Shiro brings his hands up to cover his mouth and nose. His breath catches in his throat. It’s beautiful. The music slowly starts to fade out and Ryan’s voice coming through their TV speakers has Shiro leaning forward, eyes glued to the screen.

\---- 

“I love to capture your beauty on film. I love waking up next to it in my bed. I want to give you the world, Shiro, and all I can offer you right now is this. And I hope that it’s enough… Takashi… look at me.”

\---- 

Shiro turns his head, eyes widening as he watches Ryan slip off the couch and onto one knee.  The future surgeon’s normally steady, precise hands are trembling, a tiny box dwarfed in his grasp.

Time slows and the universe constricts until nothing exists except for the two men and the unspoken question between them. Ryan nervously sweeps his tongue over his lips and clears his throat.

“Uh…”

Shiro pushes himself from the couch and, caught somewhere between accepting the box and trying to wedge himself into Ryan’s arms, stumbles, sending them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

“Yes, yes, yes, YES!” Shiro’s exuberance is muffled against Ryan’s solid chest, growing louder and more excited as he scrambles to right himself. Straddling his partner, he peppers him with kisses as tears flow from his eyes.    
  
Low, rumbling laughter ripples from Ryan’s chest as he reaches up to cup Shiro’s face. “Sugar, sugar…” he half croons, half laughs as Shiro attempts to devour his lips. “Wait!” Sweetly, tenderly, he kisses Shiro back, fumbling to bring the box between them. “Don’t you wanna see the ring before you rip my clothes off?”

Shiro sits back on his knees with a choked laugh, settling his weight on Ryan’s hips, wiping the back of his hand across the wetness on his cheeks. Ryan’s tear-soaked face splits into a wide smile and he cracks the box open.

The ring is simple, they can’t afford anything extravagant, just a band of plain silver nestled within black velvet. Ryan grasps the ring between careful fingers, setting the box to the side and reaches for Shiro’s left hand. “I know…” he starts, voice wavering. He pauses to collect himself, clearing his throat once more, and slips the cool metal circle to the base of Shiro’s finger. “One day I’ll replace it with something better. You deserve something beau--”

Shiro leans down, cutting off Ryan’s words with a searing kiss. He tries to convey every ounce of love within him through the firm press of their lips, breathing in the lingering remnants of Ryan’s Montblanc cologne, hints of oakmoss, sandalwood, and bergamot. He runs careful fingers of flesh and metal along the hints of stubble on Ryan’s jaw as Ryan sneaks soothing hands under his shirt, running trembling fingers up his sides. Shiro rests their foreheads together, rubbing noses alongside one another, open mouths brushing and catching as the space between them heats with shared breath.

“All I need is you.” A whisper. A promise. 

They kiss again, plump lips gliding, soft and slow and reverent. Shiro feels as if the sun itself has settled into his chest, filling his body with warmth that presses against the inside of his skin as Ryan licks the seam of his mouth, asking for entry. Their tongues tease, unhurried in their intimate dance. Curling, twining, sliding. 

Ryan sucks Shiro’s bottom lip into his mouth, nipping gently and Shiro’s breath escapes him in a rush. Molten heat slides down his spine, pooling in his groin. Shiro moans, rolling his hips into the burgeoning erection he can feel underneath him. The next pass of tongue is deeper, hotter, but still so, so indulgently slow. Passion and intensity rolls over them in waves, threatening to drown them both.

Ryan’s hands continue their slow exploration across the broad expanse of Shiro’s back, cataloging each scar anew, tracing the dip of his spine. Shiro shivers in anticipation and reaches back with one hand to tug his shirt over his head, briefly parting their lips. Ryan is quick to help him remove the offending piece of fabric, immediately placing his palms on Shiro’s exposed pecs, squeezing and flicking the hardening nipples with his thumbs. Shiro whines into Ryan’s mouth, hands fumbling with the zipper of his worn hoodie.

“I love you,” Shiro gasps. Ryan’s hands smooth around to the curve of his back and he rolls them in one smooth motion, settling his massive frame into the cradle of Shiro’s hips.

“And I love you.” His voice is no longer shaking, but filled with deep, unyielding conviction. He touches their lips once more. “You are mine.” Trails a line of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw to his ear. “As I am yours.”

Tears spring unbidden to Shiro’s eyes again and he allows his lids to flutter closed. Allows the words to sink in. _ His _ .  _ Mine _ .

Ryan caresses every inch of skin that he can reach; throat, the shell of Shiro’s ear, collarbone, nipples. Down the chiseled line of his muscled abdomen to the edge of his sweatpants. His touch leaves a trail of tingles in its wake, as if the evidence of his love were made physical, effervescent and sparkling on Shiro's skin.

Sweatpants quickly join the pile of clothing on the carpet and Ryan presses kisses to bared skin. Soft chaste kisses. Dragging kisses. Open-mouthed kisses with the velvet glide of tongue. Shiro is squirming, whispering praise and begging for more.

With one final lingering kiss to the inner skin of his thigh, Ryan licks a broad stripe up the rigid length of Shiro’s cock. Shiro can’t hold back the strangled shout at the unexpected change in pace, scrambling to grab onto anything to ground himself. 

Ryan smirks and reaches over to their TV stand, pulling open the bottom drawer. “We couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, could we?”

“Did you expect anything less?”

“No,” Ryan chuckles before returning with the bottle of lube they keep stashed in the living room “just in case” and claiming Shiro’s lips once more.

He hikes Shiro’s leg up onto his hip and dips slick fingers into his cleft, teasing and massaging the tight whorl before finally slipping inside. The stretch is slow, Ryan taking the time and care to fully open Shiro up until he’s a sobbing, writhing mess on his fingers. It's different now. It's not his boyfriend touching him, kissing him, making love to him. It's his  fiancé .

The heavy weight of Ryan’s body covers him and he buries shaking hands into the messy dreads on top of Ryan’s head. He can feel the smooth metal of the ring on his finger. The sensation new and foreign. Their eyes meet, swirling pools of platinum and gold, and Ryan shifts his hips, slowly entering Shiro’s body. Shiro gasps. His nerve endings sing with the stretch. He arches his head back in supplication. “Ryan,” he breathes.

Ryan wraps his hands along the sides of Shiro’s neck, grazing his tongue along the outstretched tendons of his throat. His hips move slowly, snugging deeper and deeper with each undulation until his hipbones are pressed tightly to Shiro’s ass. They pant, a faint sheen of sweat covering their skin.

“Takashi...”

Shiro gasps, static sparking through his veins. Ryan rarely uses his given name. And in this context, with the possibility of “Takashi Kinkade” newly laid out in front of him, Shiro is suffused with light and heat and love, the deepest desires of his heart laid bare.

He sobs, overwhelmed with emotion, tipping his head down to kiss his fiancé. Ryan thumbs the newly falling tears from his cheeks and starts to rotate his hips. The decadent slow grind along his inner walls is driving Shiro crazy. Letting go of Ryan’s hair, he rakes blunt fingernails and metal down Ryan’s back. He’s so full. The glide of Ryan’s nipple barbells against his skin with each movement raises goosebumps along his arms. It’s not enough.

“ _ More.. _ ”

Ryan breaks their kiss with a groan, burying his face into Shiro’s neck as he starts to thrust in earnest. Shiro knows he’s getting louder, moans and shouts echoing off of their living room walls. He can’t bring himself to care.The flex of Ryan’s powerful thighs, his back, rolling sinuously into Shiro’s body. It’s all he cares about. All he can think about. More, more, more,  _ more. _

He wraps his legs fully around Ryan’s hips and Ryan drops to his elbows, his sweat-slick abs rippling against the throbbing head of Shiro’s cock. Shiro groans, almost desperate to wrap his hand around himself to relieve some of the pressure, but something in him wants Ryan to finish first. Wants to witness the ecstacy break and shatter over his face.

Turning to rest his forehead against Ryan’s damp temple, he begs, “Please. I wa -- aahh -- I want to see you first. I want you to come first -- nggh -- please. I wanna watch your face.”

Ryan’s hips stutter in their smooth rhythm and Shiro can feel the full body shudder at his request. Pushing himself upright once more, he thrusts more urgently, forehead resting against Shiro’s, golden eyes swirling with emotion. Shiro scratches down his back and then moves to pinch his nipples, rolling the pierced brown nubs between his fingers.

With a strangled groan, Ryan’s eyebrows scrunch, and his hips slam once, twice, and he’s coming inside Shiro in warm pulses. It’s gorgeous. The sweat dripping down the side of his cheek, the way his eyes roll back into his head. And it’s his. All his.

They pant for a few moments and then Ryan is kissing him, reaching between them to wrap tight fingers around Shiro’s cock dripping with precome and sweat. Within seconds, Shiro is arching his back and painting their chests with his release.

Curling up together on the carpet, they trade sweet lazy kisses back and forth, basking in the afterglow. Shiro plays with the band on his finger, spinning it over and over until Ryan kisses his forehead with a chuckle, tucking Shiro’s head under his chin and holding him tight. 

“How long?” Shiro has to know.

“How long what? How long have I been planning this?”

Shiro nods against his chest.

“Years, sugar. I’ve known that I wanted to marry you, to make you mine, ever since you tried to bake that congratulations cake for me when I passed my OBGYN shelf exam.”

Shiro’s mouth drops open and he pulls back to stare, agape. “Three years?”

Ryan smiles warmly. He traces his thumb along the edge of Shiro’s chin. “I’ve been planning the video for three years. I’ve known you were something special since the moment we met.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have... so many people to thank for this. I really struggled to finish it due to a lot of personal things going on with my family. Thank you, as always, to [nautilicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautilicious/pseuds/nautilicious) for being the best beta I could ask for. You truly are an amazing person and I am happy to be able to call you my friend. Thank you to [CodeBlue321](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodeBlue321) and [John_Hawkens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Hawkens/pseuds/John_Hawkens) for cheering me on and providing me with little pushes to help me through. Thank you to all of my friends in our discord and on twitter for being there for me and always being awesome freaking people. Truly, you all are amazing and I love you all dearly.


End file.
